


Mon Coeur (s'ouvre à ta voix)

by aurelie_saintjuste



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Sexual Intercourse, kanera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurelie_saintjuste/pseuds/aurelie_saintjuste
Summary: All Hera wanted was for Kanan to come home safe from Malachor.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	Mon Coeur (s'ouvre à ta voix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpecSeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecSeven/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Mon Coeur](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604260) by [SpecSeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecSeven/pseuds/SpecSeven). 



> Once upon a time during a Tumblr conversation with my friend SpecSeven, I showed her a snippet of something particularly smutty I was working on, and her response was something along the lines of "you can write my sex scenes," which was maybe the nicest thing anyone had said to me. We also learned in that conversation that she favors writing Kanan, and I definitely favor writing Hera, and the idea came up to rewrite one of her wonderful fics from the opposite point of view.
> 
> That fic is called "Mon Coeur" and takes place post-Malachor, after Kanan loses his sight and, for all intents and purposes, really sort of loses his way. The chasm between Hera and Kanan is possibly at its worst as each struggles to figure out their new normal while still balancing their responsibilities to the other Spectres and to the Rebellion. Her story is achingly lovely, her dialogue was perfect and the balance of emotion, fluff and sex is exactly what I love in fics. With her permission, I retold the story from Hera's point of view. All of the dialogue you'll see in this fic 100% belongs to her, and I wrote everything in between. I'm grateful for her friendship and her willingness to let me play with one of her established stories. Please, if you haven't already, go enjoy "Mon Coeur" and all of her other work. (Especially "Darker The Night", my favorite Rebels AU!)

Hera’s eyes _burned_.

The list of unread messages flooding her inbox and demanding her attention never seems to dwindle. As soon as she sends one report out to Mon Mothma, another half-dozen find their way back to her. Encrypted files, fleet reports, supply updates… the messages seem to never end. This is the part of the rebellion that Hera is least enthused by, and by far her least favorite part of her role as Captain. But dutifully, she sits there in her pilot’s chair, legs tucked under her, fingers endlessly tapping on the datapad, until her eyes can take no more, and the words become blurred together and she’s not sure what she’s responding to anymore.

Workload aside, Hera can tell her focus hasn’t been what it should be. She knows that the rebellion is starting to ramp up in a big way, but the last six months have shown her once again that there are very real consequences - and very real losses - in war. After Malachor - when Hera knows she should have done more, been more present for Kanan and Ezra - she instead found herself taking on mission after mission. Each time she found herself wanting to reach out to Kanan, the right moment never seemed to come. He was so… distant, now. She grants him a wide berth, she’ll never fully understand the gravity of loss at the Sith Temple. Maybe, just maybe if she gives him the space he needs to heal now, he might come back to her when he’s ready.

She would like that. She would like that more than she can express, but she won’t add more to the weight he already carries so heavily on his shoulders. 

Hera pushes past the burn in her eyes, and tries to focus once again on her datapad.

… And then she practically jumps when she’s addressed from the hatch to the cockpit.

“Hera,” he says, and how long had he been in that entryway?

“Kanan!” She is genuinely surprised, she can’t remember the last time they were truly alone together in the cockpit, not on a mission anyway. “I didn’t even see you there.” 

She inwardly cringes. It’s still so unfathomable, so _upsetting_ thinking that those once bright blue-green eyes no longer have the ability to _see_ anything. She’s so self-conscious of her language these days, and she hates the fact that she’s self-conscious about anything when it comes to Kanan. It never used to be that way.

“So I noticed,” Kanan says quietly. She watches him carefully, she knows that he can feel every part of her, every emotion in her through the Force. She might not have that ability, but it’s obvious to her from her seat across the cockpit that every muscle in his body is exhausted, and he seems so… guarded. 

_Kriff_ , she’s tired, too. When did they become so _tired_? 

Hera flips the screen off and sets the datapad on the console. She brings a gloved hand to rub the weariness from her eyes and untucks her legs from under her, the fabric of her flight suit rustling as she adjusts herself in her seat.

“How long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long. I just got back,” he tells her, and it takes Hera a full moment to remember that he’s been out working on securing the perimeter of Chopper Base. “Have you been sitting here this whole time?” 

“It’s all these _messages_ ,” Hera practically groans. “If I don’t keep up with them, it takes me hours to get through them.” She pauses for a beat, and then says flatly, with a bemused smile, “I didn’t keep up with them.”  
  
“Do you want some caf?” he offers, and it’s tempting. Tempting not only because she really could use the hit of caffeine, but because there’s normalcy in Kanan in the galley, pouring her caf exactly as she likes it. For a fleeting moment, it’s almost as if nothing has changed. She wants to say yes, but feigns a glance at her chrono. Caf is a bad idea. 

“No.” Hera says with a sigh. “No, I probably won’t get any sleep at all tonight if I drink caf now.” 

“Do you ever sleep these days?” 

The words hit her hard, like a slap, and she knows Kanan doesn’t mean them to sting. No. Hera doesn’t sleep at all. She tries to ignore the bruise-like darkening under her eyes in the morning. She tries to pretend she’s not more on edge than she’s ever been, more exhausted, more pressed to jump from one task to another, to care for the rebellion, the _Ghost_ , the kids. She doesn’t sleep - can’t sleep - for fear of seeing more of their people explode in the skies in her nightmares, for fear of narrow evasions from the Empire, for fear of losing Ezra and Kanan - like they’d lost Ahsoka six months ago.

She can’t sleep without Kanan. 

But that’s selfish. Kanan has been getting on fine without her. 

… or has he? 

Kanan hasn’t been himself since Malachor. 

For a fleeting moment, she wonders if he’s feeling the same acute loss, the same loneliness, the same ache as she is.

She shakes her head, her lekku swaying gently behind her and she adjusts herself again in the seat. “Not as much as I used to, that’s for sure,” she replies carefully, but her words are laced with meaning. “And not nearly as well, either.” 

Kanan knows her better than anyone in the galaxy, and there’s no way he won’t understand her subtext. Her words are grounded in truth - Hera’s best nights of sleep were in his arms, his body curved around her, protecting her. She would close her eyes, match her breathing to his, and feel her body melt against his. Some nights were tougher than others, Kanan was still prone to nightmares, though not as commonly as when he’d first boarded the ship. On those nights, Hera would cup his face gently in her hands, kiss his mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids. Some nights that would be all it took to soothe him back to sleep. Others nights would require a decidedly more physical approach, a crash of mouths, an urgent pressing of his cock against her, begging her for relief, for unity, for something _real_ to save him from the nightmares from his past that plagued him and -- 

Hera feels the flush creeping into her cheeks, and is grateful to not have to explain herself.

“There’s been a lot going on,” he says with a shrug. “You’d think that saving Mon Mothma’s life would have earned you a vacation, but it seems like it only earned you more work.”

She laughs her musical laugh quietly, still shaking off the memory of her best nights with him, “Rebellions aren’t built on vacations, Kanan,” did that come out too harshly, too embittered? “But I sure could use a good night’s sleep.” 

“Let me give you one.” 

Hera feels the air knocked out of her lungs. _Oh._

She feels her skin start to prickle under her flight suit, the urge strong to drag him bodily to her cabin and sort out whatever has kept them apart for these long months. Her body misses him as much as her psyche does. 

But instead, Hera glares at her datapad, the weight of responsibility pins her to her seat. “I still have so much work to get done.” 

Before she has time to further justify herself, Kanan says, “I pushed you away for such a long time, Hera.” 

_Oh._

“I don’t know what I can ever do to make up for that. I’m sorry.” 

Hera’s chest feels tight and her heart feels heavy. He knew, he understood, he _felt_ her loneliness, her worry, her concern. Some of it for the rebellion, of course, but so much _more_ of it for him. They have been partners for nearly a decade, and for the first time in all of those years, he had pushed her out, whether to protect her or for his own reasons, she never fully understood. And that confusion and uncertainty were excruciating, she’d lost so many sleep cycles trying to decide how best to help him, or if she even could. But if distance and solitude were what he needed, Hera resolutely decided she would respect that choice. For Kanan, not for her. 

It doesn’t stop her from _hurting_ , the stabs of pain sometimes so strong they take her breath away. 

“I can’t truly understand or imagine what it was like for you, Kanan, but I understood that you had to go through it alone. I tried to give you the space and time you needed, and I did my best to wait patiently… but even so, it was _hard_ .” Her voice is tight and despite her best efforts she cracked on her last word. She can feel the prickle of tears threatening at her eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself, her fingers curling into the armrests of her seat.  
  
“I know,” he says, and his voice mirrors hers, and she _hates_ it, hates that he’s hurting when all she wants to do is help him heal, “I didn’t think about what I was putting everyone else through… I know it took a toll on you. I left you to deal with everyone and everything on your own. Including Ezra. _Especially_ Ezra. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have been _here_ , helping you, instead of out _there_ , feeling sorry for myself. It was cruel of me to leave you on your own to deal with all of those burdens, and worse, my behavior just gave you another burden to carry.”  
  
Uncanny that for a man recently blinded, he can still see the world around him so clearly. She feels very small when she admits, “All of that is true.” 

It feels good to find this common ground, and she continues in an even, gentle tone, “And it was difficult, for _all_ of us. But, Kanan, when you returned from Malachor, I knew it was going to be a long, hard road for us. But you _came back_.” And the emotion is starting to choke her and her voice dips softer, “That was the only thing any of us ever really wanted… the only thing _I_ wanted.”  
  
She’s aching to touch him, but won’t risk the fragile channel of communication that has only just reopened to her. 

“I did come back, but it took much longer than it should have, and now… I feel like there’s this distance I can’t cross between you and me, Hera,” his voice is so soft, so quiet, so vulnerable, and she wishes more than anything that she could see those eyes behind his mask, their milkiness still shocking sometimes, but that she’ll love no matter what. 

Her heart is aching and she can’t take it anymore. She pulls her gloves off and drops them on top of the datapad on the console and gracefully pushes herself out of her seat. She takes a few tentative steps towards him, just close enough to enter his personal space.

“I miss you too, Kanan,” she says softly, “But I’m here now. So… cross the distance.”

He’s only really an arms length away, so close that he can reach out and pull her to him, and tempting as that is, Hera has another plan. She grabs his hand, her fingers and palm thrilling at the touch of his warm skin against hers and leads him out the hatch and down the corridor towards the bunks.  
  
The relief is practically radiating from her when she taps the keypad to open the cabin door. She pulls him inside with both hands laced with his, and when the door hisses shut behind them, she takes stock of the man in front of her. 

The weariness seems to have at least partially subsided from his body with the promise of their reunion. He looks so much older in six months, but no less handsome. The one jarring piece, the one last hurdle that Hera still finds herself acclimating to is --  
  
“Can I take off your mask?” she asks quietly. “It hides too much of your face.”  
  
He nods in assent, and one hand remains laced in hers. Hera wills all of her strength into the five fingers twined in his as the other hand rises to his face. She strokes his cheek gently with the back of her fingers. She draws a quiet breath as she frees her second hand from his and raises her fingers to gently lift away the mask, recently decorated by Sabine with hard-earned jaig’s eyes. She lets it drop to the floor with a soft thud. The sight of his burned face, his closed eyes breaks her heart, but Kanan doesn’t need her pity. He needs her strength.

That’s what will let them survive this war - their shared strength.

Hera catches her lower lip between her teeth and traces the darkened, scarred flesh across his eyes and the bridge of his nose. She pulls him to her, presses her forehead against his, and she’s sure Kanan can feel the wave of pain she feels for him. 

_No pity. Only shared strength._

“It’s not quite the same, is it?” he asks softly, sadness underwriting his voice, and his mouth is so close to hers. His silvery eyes lock on hers, and she’s sure in that moment that he can still see her.  
  
“No,” she agrees, “but it’s still beautiful.” 

Her fingers sink into his hair, close to the scalp, and she cards them through to gently free the tie binding his ponytail.  
  
Everything moves so familiarly then, like a favorite dance they’ve shared a thousand times. His mouth drops to press feather-soft kisses down her cheekbone before his lips meet hers, and Hera could cry from the sweetness of it. She feels his arms wrap around her, pull her close to his body, and she practically melts into his comfort. Hera slides her arms around his waist, her fingers slip into his belt at the small of his back to give her more purchase to pull him closer.  
  
Hera is in no mood to move languidly. Six months without this was too much lost time. She presses his mouth to his more urgently, her tongue tracing at the seam of his mouth and a gentle catch of his lower lip in her teeth shows him that she has no intention of letting him feel sorry for himself. She knows that he is never more himself than when they’re making love, and tonight, Hera will help Kanan regain that part of his identity. 

She doesn’t break her mouth away from his as her quick fingers work the catch of his armor, the buckle of his holster and belt. She lets them clatter noisily to the durasteel floor even as he’s unbuttoning her flight suit and freeing the leather plates of her armor, shucking the orange fabric of the suit to the ground. Their hands and fingers are practiced, though tonight they move with a new urgency. 

Hera breaks the kiss only long enough to help pull the layers of his shirt and undershirt over his head. Her eyes roam appreciatively across the planes of his muscular chest, heaving slightly with exertion and desire, and he wastes no time in unfastening his pants, pulling at his boots and freeing himself from the last of his clothes. Hera sucks in a short breath at the swaths of coppery skin, dusted with dark hair, his coloring always reminds her of the warmth of Ryloth in summer, and it feels good to be home.

There’s an urgency prickling at every inch of Hera’s naked skin as she leans back into him to pick up where they left off, and she’s surprised when Kanan grabs her shoulders and holds her at near arm's length away, his milky eyes locked on hers. She feels a quick moment of panic, of self-consciousness as Hera realizes that this is their first time making love since he’s been blinded. Their level of intimacy, she reasons, has been so consistent and so strong that surely, they’ll slide right back into their familiar cadence. Her breath comes quick, she wants so badly to kiss him again, to taste him, but as she tries to lean in again, he spins her quickly, pulling her back against his chest, and holding her in place with one large hand splayed across her naked stomach. She stifles a groan when she feels the length of his erection pressed against the cleft of her buttocks, and she melts against him, one hand reaching behind her to gently stroke his face and slides into his loose hair. 

“Kanan,” she breathes, as he trails his free hand along her side before cupping her left breast, and she twines her fingers over his, as he rolls a pert nipple between his fingers. A low grunt escapes his lips as she rolls her hips, grinding her ass against his core, and she can feel the guttural sound of him against her earcone. 

Soon his hand releases her breast and dips lower down her abdomen. Hera wants to twist free, turn and kiss him or drop to her knees and take that glorious cock in her mouth and taste him, but Kanan has other plans, and tonight, she’ll let him lead the dance.

Kanan’s fingers dip lower, and Hera replaces her hand over his to guide him, sinking between her legs, and into her soft folds. One finger slides inside, then a second joins, and she tosses her head back against his shoulder with a gasp. Through a heavily lidded gaze, Hera can see his eyes are closed, he’s focused so intently, but there’s a mischievous smile playing at his lips that she hasn’t seen in six _kriffing_ months and she feels as though her heart might burst at the sight of Kanan coming back to her. 

His fingers circle the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core, and she’s wound tight, utterly on edge. Then, and altogether too soon, Kanan pulls his hand from her and she wants desperately to taste herself on his fingers, remembering the first time she sucked his fingers clean and how Kanan nearly came at the simple sight of it. But he has something else in mind as he fluidly lifts her in his arms and strides towards the double bunk. 

“Kanan,” she says darkly, she wants him so badly in that instant but it would appear he has other plans. He settles her on the edge of the top bunk and slides his palms across the top of her thighs. From this vantage point, her hips are nearly at the same level as his face, and Hera understands his intention, as his mouth starts pressing kisses where his palms have just skimmed. His face moves close to her core, and her knees part to grant him access to her most sensitive places. 

She _missed this_ , she missed the tickle of his breath against her inner thigh, the feel of her weight balanced against one elbow as she leans back just slightly, enough to welcome him in. She missed the feel of the sheets twisted into her fists, and the slide and tug of her free hand weaving into his hair, grounding her and guiding him. She missed the feel of his mouth against her core, the feeling of every nerve ending on fire as he laps against her, and it doesn’t take much for it to be _too much_.

Hera could very easily come undone this way, but she wants to come undone _with him_.

“Kanan,” she says again, warningly, as she tries to squirm free. It’s so good, but so much, and she can feel him smiling against her skin, against that most sensitive place.

“Hmm?” he asks, and the vibrations against her push her closer and closer to her breaking point.

“Kanan!” she repeats, reaching desperately for her Captain Hera voice, the voice that he’ll listen to, he’ll obey. He pulls back slightly, pressing kisses to her inner thigh, and meets her gaze from his position leaned against the bunk. 

He has the absolute _audacity_ to smile at her, his face alight with affection, and Hera’s heart feels like it’s in a vise grip. 

“Hmm?” he says more meaningfully, punctuated with another kiss to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She realizes then that he is teasing her, and she wants to be mad, but she has more pressing matters on her mind.

“I want you,” she practically growls, “ _Now._ ” 

Kanan knows that tone and wastes no time in lifting her from the top bunk. She links her arms around his neck, and when he sinks to sit on the bottom bunk, she wraps her legs around his torso. Her mouth meets his hungrily, and she arches back, supported by one strong hand at her tailbone. She tosses her head back, offering him access to her neck, her collarbones, her chest, and Kanan wastes no time in pressing heated, opened mouthed kisses to her exposed green skin. She’s getting desperate now, and she rolls her hips against his. She can feel his rock hard erection against her slick core, and she’s sure it’s a work of the Force that he’s managed to keep his body in check this long.

_Best not to make him wait, then._

Her heels dig into the small of his back as she lifts herself gently, and slides one hand between them to line him up with her entrance. She angles herself just right, and Kanan braces one hand between her shoulder blades, and the other holds her securely at the base of her spine. She sinks into him, and her heart, her mind, her body feel a level of fullness she hasn’t felt in months. 

It’s dizzying.

Hera’s hands slip behind his neck, and she drags her mouth to his. She rolls her hips and he groans against her mouth, and soon, they find that familiar rhythm, that push and pull against one another that allows Kanan to sink deeply into her, and Hera to melt completely against him. 

Hera’s forehead is pressed against his, her eyes closed tight in focus. Kanan is breathing heavily against her now, his hips snapping into hers, and every thrust hits deeper and deeper, his hands sliding down to cup her ass. A frustrated cry escapes her lips and when she opens her eyes, she’s met with his silvery gaze again, and it’s just enough… just… _enough…_

“Kanan,” she whines, and her whole body tenses, her muscles tight and taut, and her face tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Had she _bitten_ him? He didn’t seem to mind, anyway, it hasn’t stopped him from thrusting hard into her, his brow furrows in deep concentration, and she can feel his body tense. 

Her mouth catches his as he groans her name, and she can feel his release deep inside her. He’s breathing hard now as he struggles to get his body to calm, and Hera tries to assist him, pressing soft, sweet kisses along his jaw, and running her fingers through the loose strands of hair. 

Finally, he opens his eyes, meeting hers again. She still sees him as he was, as he _is_ , she can imagine those brilliant sea-glass eyes meeting hers, and she knows, despite it all, that he can see her, too. Relief floods Kanan’s features as he pulls her flush against his sweat-slick body, wrapping her in his arms tightly, his face pressed into her neck.

Hera’s chest feels tight again, she swallows thickly before a smile plays on her lips, “Your beard tickles,” she murmurs after a moment.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice gravelly against her shoulder. 

She presses her cheek against his experimentally and pauses thoughtfully. “Yes. I like it a lot.” 

“Guess I’ll keep it then.” 

She drops a kiss at the crown of his head as he rests against her shoulder. “That’s okay with me.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?” he asks, and lifts his face away from the soft skin of her shoulder. He appraises her with some concern ghosting his features. 

“I think I might be able to,” she surmises, “You weren’t planning on leaving tonight, were you?” 

“The thought never crossed my mind.” He says, and she can feel the promise in his voice.

Hera carefully slips off his lap, they’re both slick with sweat and sex, but she doesn’t care, she feels more complete and at ease in this moment than she has in months. She slides along the bunk, and opens her arms for him to join her. 

Kanan does, pulling her body close to his, and resting his head on her chest. His hand stills against her abdomen, and Hera gently strokes his head, her fingers coursing through his hair soothingly. 

She feels him still, his breathing slow and measured. 

With one hand twined in his hair and the other pressed against his heart, it’s the finest night of sleep Hera has had in six months.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, I'm agent-aurelie on Tumblr, and sometimes post short Tumblr stories there, too. <3


End file.
